Batman: Until We Meet Again
by iammemyself
Summary: What happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas. Some sort of EDM/university mashup AU. Edward is Indian and Jonathan is half Chilean. Edward has Becker muscular dystrophy.


'Until We Meet Again'

By Indiana

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma [Scriddler]

Synopsis: What happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas. Some sort of EDM/university mashup AU. Edward is Indian and Jonathan is half Chilean. Edward has Becker muscular dystrophy.

Jonathan was losing hope that this had been a good idea.

He had spent years wishing he could go to this festival. First, he hadn't been old enough; then, he couldn't afford it, and then he couldn't get time off. And now he was finally here, wishing he'd never come at all.

He didn't really know, exactly, what he'd expected to happen, except that he had expected to _feel_ different. He didn't feel like he belonged here, as he'd been promised; he certainly felt _more_ anxious than he really wanted to. He was disappointed in himself, more than anything. He knew the magic was there; it was so obvious in the way that it had touched everyone. Everyone, it seemed, but him.

He'd been sitting on the ground against one of the stage fences for some time. His ears had started to hurt a while ago but he was afraid that, if he moved, people would think he didn't know how to handle something like this. That he wasn't prepared. That they'd all know he was alone, and the magic had not touched him, and that he never should have come here. He didn't know how much longer he was going to stay. He'd been here too long already. He'd been here too long from the moment he had touched his wristband to the sensor gate.

In his time there against the fence he'd been watching the row of people against the front barrier, and he'd been envying them so deeply he was almost angry with them. He didn't understand how they could so shamelessly keep trying to attract the camera, or talk to people they had never seen before and would never see again, or dance where the whole world could see them. Why could they do that so easily and he couldn't even just stand there and stare up at the video boards? What made them so different from him?

The person in particular he kept looking back to was a man a little on the short side, wearing the same colour wristband as he was that glowed neon under the UV lights. The energy he had was so pervasive that all the people around him were undeniably feeding off of it. What must have been strangers kept walking up to him and talking into his ear. He traded bracelets with several of them, and someone gave him a bottle of water and disappeared. And no matter who came up to distract him, he never once lost the beat.

Jonathan was angriest with him.

The DJ was talking but Jonathan couldn't hear a word he was saying; the distortion of the bass was far too loud this close to the stage. He seemed to be wrapping things up, judging from the people wandering away in the direction of new places. Maybe if he got up and left with them, nobody would notice.

Before he could even begin to find his feet, however, someone sat down next to him and said, voice coloured with a heavy Indian accent, "How are you doing?"

Jonathan looked over in automatic startlement to see the man he'd been watching for the last hour or so there next to him, legs flat along the litter-scattered asphalt. He was wearing brown sandals and shorts with a pattern that looking at for too long made Jonathan's eyes hurt. He looked to have unusually strong calves.

"Um," was all he managed to get out of his mouth.

"First time?" the stranger said, strangely seeming more excited than sympathetic, and Jonathan nodded. The other man smiled and held his hand out. It took Jonathan far too many seconds to figure out he was supposed to take it.

"Edward," the man said, squeezing Jonathan's fingers too hard, and Jonathan sort of mumbled his own name in return while looking in the other direction. Edward stood up, still holding onto Jonathan's hand, and he took that to mean he was supposed to come along. He did stand up without really knowing why. "I have to pick up something," Edward said not at all in Jonathan's direction, and Jonathan walked a distance behind him, unsure if he was reading things right. Up ahead he watched Edward stand in front of someone sitting in a wheelchair, who got up when he noticed him there. Edward shook his head and looked over to Jonathan, who closed the remaining distance.

He couldn't help but stare at the wheelchair, though it seemed that Edward _intended_ people to look at it. He'd decorated it with lights and ribbons and there was a green plastic backpack hanging off the handles that glowed in the UV lights. Having sat down, he now smiled up at Jonathan. "Do you like it?"

He did, but that wasn't the primary thought on his mind. "People are looking at it," was the only sentence he managed to put together. Edward shrugged.

"People look at a lot of things. What have you seen so far?" He began directing himself through the crowd with Jonathan in tow, seeming very unconcerned about the skill required to navigate through a throng of this size. Jonathan shrugged before it came to him that Edward wasn't looking at him.

"Nothing, really," he said, hoping his voice was loud enough.

"You just went straight to that one stage?"

Jonathan swallowed instead of answering. He'd only gone there in the first place because it had been the path of least resistance.

"That's a shame," Edward told him, and he pulled on Jonathan's arm with a little bit of insistence. "I've been here a couple of times, I'll show you around."

And that's exactly what he did. It was a lot easier to walk with Edward than it had been himself: people for the most part gave him the space he needed, and a lot of them wanted to give him a high five or take pictures, which he happily obliged. All they did for about an hour was make a leisurely circuit of the festival grounds, and eventually Jonathan had to ask, "Aren't you tired of people making a spectacle of you?"

Edward frowned in consideration for a moment. "Not here. Yeah, people want pictures of the chair. They also want pictures of the women wearing nothing but glitter. There's not that big a difference."

"There are women wearing nothing but glitter?" He couldn't think of a sight he wanted to witness _less_. Edward laughed.

"If you wanted to see people pushing the boundaries of nakedness in polite society, this is the place."

He manoeuvred himself next to a light pole and Jonathan sat on the concrete base while Edward rummaged in his backpack. He took out a ziploc bag and a lighter, placing them between his legs. He opened the seal and took out a cigarette, holding the lighter to the end of it. As soon as the paper caught the flame, however, Jonathan knew it was not a cigarette at all. Edward took a long breath of it and offered it to Jonathan, who took it gingerly.

"Nobody _cares_ ," Edward said, shaking his head when Jonathan looked at it anxiously. "Just try it. Maybe it will help you calm down."

He had to admit that would be nice.

They sat there against the post for a while, smoking, and when they'd gone through half of it Edward asked, "Did you notice something?"

"Hm?" Jonathan said, wondering if he'd been using the joint wrong somehow. It had seemed pretty straightforward.

Edward waved one of his hands. "Did you notice how beautiful everyone is here?"

Jonathan looked up at the people walking by. He hadn't, but now that Edward had mentioned it he kind of did. Until he glanced over at Edward again to see him watching a procession of women in somewhat-matching bodysuits and fluffies; he then bit his tongue and looked at the ground again. He knew that shouldn't have bothered him – Edward had just felt sorry for him, that was all, nothing about tonight meant anything other than that – but it did anyway. "I think there aren't enough nice clothes for men," he found himself mumbling, and Edward somehow heard that and laughed.

"You're right," he said, taking the joint back from Jonathan. "We've got people in _patterned sweatpants_ now. We can do better, can't we?"

Jonathan _felt_ better, suddenly. Maybe Edward hadn't actually thought those girls were attractive, and was more interested in the strange cuts of their outfits. Bodysuits certainly seemed to have more pieces removed from them than there needed to be.

When the marijuana was spent, Edward moved away from the pole and suggested they get something to eat. On the way to one of the clusters of booths Jonathan felt the need to say suddenly, "You look nice, though."

Edward smiled at him, and he had to look away because it was making him feel very warm and he was unsure if it were a good idea to encourage that. He tried to become jealous of those perfect teeth, but for some reason he couldn't do it.

"Thank you," Edward said, and Jonathan stayed in the same line he did even though he didn't really like what Edward was getting to eat because he was afraid if he strayed too far he would lose him.

They sat down at a mostly occupied bench in a forest of glowing neon flowers with their food, and it wasn't that loud over here but Jonathan still could not understand what Edward was saying because he talked very fast and if Jonathan stopped paying attention for even one second he got lost in Edward's accent. When Edward did stop talking, he started _staring_ at Jonathan and he realised he must have asked him a question. He looked down at his hands.

"I don't know what you said," he told his fingers. "You're hard to understand, sometimes."

"Oh," Edward said, taking a drink from his water bottle. "Just mention it next time."

"I didn't want to be rude."

Edward laughed. "There are a lot of accents in India, you know. We don't understand each other half the time. It's not a problem."

"You're not worried about not being understood?" Jonathan had certainly taken great pains to banish his own accent so he wouldn't have to repeat things. But Edward only shrugged.

"There's no use in getting upset about it."

Jonathan wished it were that easy.

They spent a while there, just watching the people come and go and the lasers temporarily etching the sky. A few people still walked up to talk to Edward, and he responded to them while they were there, but he was a lot more subdued than he had been. Jonathan knew what was coming and sat there hoping it never would.

Edward turned to him soon after he had this thought and said, "I have to get going."

"Oh," was all Jonathan could think of, and he mumbled it in the direction of the ground. It was silly, but he really, really didn't want Edward to leave. He'd almost been able to enjoy himself with Edward's help, and now he was –

"Coming back tomorrow?" Edward asked, and Jonathan found himself nodding even though he hadn't actually thought about the question. When he felt a hand on his shoulder Jonathan looked up again.

"Did you bring a phone with you?"

Jonathan could only nod to that too, pulling it from his pocket. Edward took it and typed intensely for a minute or so. He handed it back and moved himself away from the table, calling over his shoulder, "Until we meet again!"

Jonathan didn't know what that meant, or what he wanted it to mean. He spent the trip back to his hotel petrified of what Edward had left behind on his phone. He climbed into bed exhausted, but he could not sleep. He just lay there with the phone in his hand, staring at the sun filtering in through the curtains. When he finally made up his mind to look, he was unable to correctly tap out his passcode several times.

Edward had left him a note that said when and where they could meet the next day, with his phone number just in case. They really _were_ going to meet again.

Jonathan didn't know why that made him so happy. But he stared at the screen just in case looking away made the note disappear, even as he told himself it probably wasn't going to happen and he didn't need to get himself excited for nothing.

/

He'd been waiting for two hours.

He had been an hour early, but leaving his hotel had been better than sitting on the windowsill staring out over the city for that time. He'd slept a few hours, and he had looked at Edward's note for several minutes before having to get out of bed so he could throw up several times over the course of the afternoon. He hated this part. Where he wanted something but was so afraid he wouldn't be able to have it that it nearly crippled him. When he wasn't doing that, he was looking out the window and willing time not to pass so he wouldn't have to make the trip downstairs, down the busy Strip and into the line for the shuttle to the festival. He hated walking outside with the identifying wristband, hated standing in the line where the destination was so obvious. He felt as though all the residents of Las Vegas were judging him for coming here.

And he'd done it, even though he hadn't wanted to and had been shaking so much he'd had to cross his arms and trap his tongue between his teeth the entire time, and Edward had not come.

It was silly to pin the remainder of his experience here around a man he'd known for only a few hours. He knew that. But he wanted to see him again. He _needed_ to, even if he couldn't quite understand why. He sat there against the pole and pressed his clenched hands between his knees and tried to convince his lungs to act normally.

"You okay down there?"

Jonathan's entire body failed to respond for a few seconds. It was definitely Edward. He was definitely here, and he had _not_ stood Jonathan up, and –

"I know I'm late," Edward went on. "I overslept. The first day always gets to me. I figured you could just do your own thing for a while and text me if you wanted to try meeting up again."

"Oh yeah," said Jonathan, who had never sent a text in his entire life. "I was just going to do that."

Jonathan found his feet, somehow. Edward had redecorated the wheelchair and was wearing a flower crown that had lights hidden in the petals. He suddenly wondered how he had ever found the things silly.

"Anyone in particular you wanted to see today?" Edward asked, and Jonathan's brain muttered _You_ as his mouth, predictably, produced nothing. So he just shrugged.

"I brought you these," Edward said, and he looked in his backpack for a minute before handing some fistful of objects to Jonathan. Jonathan took them: a pair of earplugs and a wristband. The use of the earplugs was self-evident, and Jonathan was grateful for them since his had gotten lost someplace between the plane and the airport shuttle, but he already _had_ a wristband.

"Put it on," Edward told him. "It's so you can come with me to the special viewing areas later."

That was a nice thing for the festival to have, Jonathan thought as he finagled the band onto his wrist. Someone else had been wearing it, but they appeared to have a wider hand than he did. Edward took his phone out of his pocket and looked down at it for a minute.

"All right. There's someone _I_ want to see in about an hour, so we'll head over there."

"Why now?"

Edward turned the chair in what must have been their new direction. "If you go to some of the stages during a set that isn't that popular, you can be right up front when the bigger DJ comes on." He shrugged and started wheeling himself through the crowd. "And besides. It's not like _anyone_ booked here is going to be outright _bad_."

That was probably true.

They made their way to one of the stages and once up to the front Edward got out of the chair and just left it in the corner, choosing to stand against the fence closer to the centre. Jonathan looked at it uneasily. "Aren't you worried that – "

"No," Edward said, waving one hand. "This is probably the safest place in the world to leave it."

He didn't have quite as much energy as they day before, but he was still dancing and waving his arms in the air and talking to anyone who came over to him. Jonathan could not quite bring himself to do any of those things, so he just watched and hoped one day he could be half as brave as Edward was. He had been right, too, about the best time to get to the front of the stage; as soon as the DJ they had arrived during left, the space behind them filled up quickly. In fact, Jonathan became anxious when he could no longer see an exit among the throng of people. Edward touched his shoulder and he jumped.

"Don't worry about them," Edward said. "You'll miss what's in front of you."

He didn't know how to explain to Edward that that advice didn't help, exactly – and now wasn't really the time, even if he _would_ have cared – so he just tried to smile and nod as though it were something he could actually do.

Watching Edward helped, though. He'd been so envious at him yesterday, but today he just… _admired_ him. He'd come here to have fun and he was going to do it no matter how much effort it took. Jonathan had imagined doing that more times than he could count but had never been able to actually _do_ it. Maybe one day.

Suddenly Edward's legs just seemed to evaporate on him, and because Jonathan had been watching him so intently he managed to reach out and lower him to the ground. "Oh," Edward said, sounding out of breath, "how romantic."

Jonathan was very glad it was dark because he was certain the effects of that statement were visible on his face. "Are – are you alright," he stammered.

"Oh yeah," Edward said, gaining his feet with liberal help from the fence. "But that was enough standing for today." He made his way over to the chair and sat back down. "We'll get some food and then I have something for you."

Jonathan stopped breathing. Something? For _him_?

It was very difficult to eat with that mystery forefront on his mind, so he managed only a little. They were again in the makeshift forest with the tables and when he was finished eating, Edward removed a clear plastic bag filled with beads from his backpack and poured it out on the table. "You don't have any bracelets," he said, putting some strips of elastic, wrapped in coloured thread, down beside the beads. "Now you're going to."

Jonathan felt somewhat silly at first, as though he had reverted back to kindergarten and had been moved into a corner so he could entertain himself while the teacher did paperwork. But then Edward started talking again, something about computers – he had built one, or one of his friends had, or he was going to; Jonathan had missed which – and Jonathan was distracted enough by trying to listen to him that what he was doing didn't bother him so much. Some other people sat down and invited themselves to the beads but Edward just ignored them. After they had made a sizable pile Edward looked over at him and asked, "Do you know the handshake?"

Jonathan was not quite finished the one he was working on and put it down carefully so it wouldn't spill everywhere. "I know _of_ it, but I've never – "

"Cool," Edward interrupted, and he started sliding his bracelets on. Jonathan realised he was supposed to do the same after a few moments. When they were both ready they did the handshake and Jonathan stared at the bracelet Edward had given him. It was perfect and he was never, ever, ever taking it off.

"I'll make a deal with you," Edward said, glancing down at his phone. "I'll drive you back to your hotel _if_ you help me get my wheelchair into the car."

"Sure," Jonathan answered, wondering in what world that would possibly have been a problem in.

"Cool. Just let me tell someone they're going to need alternate transportation."

"No," protested Jonathan. Edward looked up at him with a mild frown.

"No to what?"

"I don't want to take someone else's – "

"Oh, I warned him ahead of time," Edward interrupted, going back to the phone. "And he has a shuttle pass."

"I have a –"

"Shush." Edward shoved the phone away and waved him forward. "Let's go."

So he followed Edward to the parking lot and when they got to Edward's car he seemed to have some trouble standing but Jonathan was unsure whether he should offer help or not. Edward then told him how to fold the chair up and Jonathan did so as carefully as he could, though some of the decorations fell onto the ground. Jonathan mumbled an apology but Edward just shrugged.

"I'm redecorating it again anyway."

The drive back was longer than the shuttle in had been, since Edward had to take the highway along with everyone else in the entire city, and it was quiet in the car but it was _nice_. Jonathan didn't feel as though he had to say anything, or that he was being _judged_ for not saying anything. He could just it there and look out the window while Edward drove, and it was nice.

When they arrived at the hotel Jonathan looked to Edward as he put his hand on the door, and he bit his tongue. Edward looked tired. Jonathan should have said no, he should have just taken the shuttle back, Edward had just asked to be polite and –

Edward smiled at him, and it was less enthusiastic than usual but it seemed genuine. "I'll be coming in later tomorrow," he said. "Probably about two hours later than I was today. Same place?"

Jonathan could only nod. His fingers fumbled for the doorhandle. It seemed to take hours for him to extricate himself from the seat. He then stood next to the car, with the door in his hand, trying to force his mouth to _say_ something for once.

"Until we meet again," Edward told him, and Jonathan just nodded again and closed the door.

/

Edward was even later than he'd said he would be, leaving Jonathan – who had arrived an hour early again – sitting there wringing his hands together as the seconds seem to slowly drizzle by. He had not thrown up today, at least, though if Edward did not appear soon he felt as though he might. When he did he looked worse than Jonathan felt.

"I know I'm late," he said as soon as he stopped in front of Jonathan. His voice was quiet. "The last day is hard."

"You didn't have to come," Jonathan mumbled, as though anyone in the world would have come here solely for Jonathan, but Edward just smiled.

"Of course I did. This festival is expensive. Come on. This is where the wristbands come in handy." And he waved his left wrist in Jonathan's general direction.

He took Jonathan to one of the stages they had frequented most and they were allowed up onto a small platform that was mostly empty save for a scattered amount of folding chairs. There was one person in the corner who took the barest notice of them.

Jonathan had to admit he didn't mind being able to sit down on a chair instead of the ground or a sticky light post. He was not totally sure what he was supposed to do with himself now, though; he really, _really_ didn't need to be here. Edward could take care of himself. Better than Jonathan could. He _had_ been invited so he tried not to turn it over too much in his mind, but he was unable and after a minute he had to turn to tell Edward he was going to leave and –

Edward was sitting there with his eyes closed, and his hands were folded together in his lap. Well, Jonathan couldn't _bother_ him but he couldn't just _leave_ either! He sat back in frustration and closed his eyes, too, mostly to try and calm himself down, but… he was distracted by how nice it was to just sit there quietly and listen. Not just to what was going on in front of him, but everything around, too. It felt a little bit like everyone in the whole world was here, and he was sitting exactly in the centre, and he was okay.

"Hey," Edward said, very softly, but Jonathan still jumped.

"Mm?" Even the syllable seemed to get caught in his throat.

"Mind if I borrow your hand?"

Jonathan had no idea what he could possibly be using it for, but he confusedly held his hand up in Edward's direction, and he… he took it and put it down on the arm of the chair and slid his fingers through Jonathan's own.

Jonathan stared at their hands for much too long.

Edward's hand was so warm and soft. He had to rub his thumb against it tentatively, and he sat forward again in case Edward minded that. But he was sitting there with his eyes closed again. And he wasn't the kind of person to keep it to himself if he were bothered.

"Edward," he found himself asking after a little while. Edward looked at him but said nothing. He continued, "It's hard for you to come here."

"Yeah."

"Then why do you?"

Edward readjusted his hand on Jonathan's. "Why did you?"

That was a fair question. "I wanted to."

"It's as simple as that."

They sat there quietly for a time, and Jonathan became increasingly hungry but was unsure what to do about it. Would they let him back up here if Edward wasn't accompanying him? He stood up without really meaning to, and Edward looked up at him.

"Um – do you want something –" Jonathan stammered, and Edward studied him for a moment before letting go of his hand.

"Sure," he said, and he rummaged around in his backpack and held out some money for Jonathan to take. "They shouldn't give you trouble coming back, but if they do I'll come over."

The part Jonathan was _actually_ dreading was walking into the crowd and standing in a line and trying to talk loud enough to the food vendor that they would hear him but nobody else would, and this all told took about twenty minutes but he felt as though it had taken him twenty years. He made his way back to the stage as quickly as possible, terrified that Edward would have just _left_ , but he was still there and he seemed very happy with what Jonathan had brought for him. He started talking quite a lot after that, about his computer science major and the hockey team he was a goalie on and things he'd seen at his hotel, and Jonathan did his best to listen.

When the sun started to filter its way through the neon lights, Edward let go of Jonathan's hand and gestured for him to follow. Soon after they were sitting in the grandstands, looking out over the milling crowd and trying to see the lasers as they faded into the lightening sky. Jonathan's hand was on the bench and Edward's was right next to it. So close that Jonathan could almost pretend they were touching. The wheelchair seemed to be waiting patiently for Edward at the bottom of the stairs, like a watchful parent.

"Well," Edward said finally, when the sun was just about touching the horizon, "it seems our time here has come to an end."

Jonathan swallowed and looked down at the bleachers beneath his feet. Maybe if he didn't look, the sun wouldn't rise. It was selfish. He knew full well Edward was very tired, and had probably wanted to leave a while ago; getting up the stairs just to sit here had seen him gripping the railing with a lot of force and it had taken him several minutes, but Jonathan had been too anxious to ask if he wanted help. There were a lot of things he'd wanted to say that had never made it into his mouth. He pressed his hands together and stared at his shoes.

Edward's voice was soft. "Hey."

Jonathan looked up at him. "Mm?"

Edward leaned forward and pressed one hand to Jonathan's cheek, and as the sky melted into red-gold Edward kissed him, very softly. Jonathan closed his eyes and wished for it to never end.

But as all moments did this one too had to see its conclusion, and Edward stood up. Jonathan's eyes followed him, and he willed him to sit back down and help Jonathan find some way to make this weekend last forever. But he just smiled and waved and moved down the stairs, and Jonathan was left to lean forward with his head in his hands. He couldn't even move for several minutes.

How was he supposed to go home after this? How was real life supposed to ever measure up to this endless dream? It couldn't. And now this man he'd met that had shown him the magic of the world was gone. He should have helped him back down the stairs, or at least gone down to the parking lot and thanked him. But he hadn't. It had barely happened and he already regretted it. All of it.

/

He was two hours early for his flight but he spent every minute of those sitting anxiously on the edge of his chair, listening for the flight announcements and hoping he hadn't gone to the wrong gate and missed his turn to board. When the call came he stood in line with his eyes at his feet and his boarding pass curled inside of his crushed passport.

He looked up once, when the attendant announced the first section of passengers to board, and when he did he realised some people sitting in a row of chairs ahead of him were talking loudly. One of them sounded familiar, somehow, and when he found them his stomach went cold.

It was Edward, and he was with someone else.

His friend was Indian as well, and they were chattering away in their common language, and Edward looked happy. The other man had on the same wristband Jonathan had spent an hour removing that morning. Edward had come to the festival with someone else.

Jonathan's tongue was between his teeth and it hurt. It hurt a lot.

Edward ended up in the aisle several rows ahead of Jonathan's seat, and he didn't notice when Jonathan passed him by. Jonathan mumbled an apology to the man who had to get up so that Jonathan could seat himself next to the window, and when he had he pressed his headphones harder against his ears and stared very intensely at the runway outside.

It was going to be a long flight back to Toronto.

/

Jonathan had difficulty sleeping for several days after that. During the deplaning he had sat there until everyone else had passed him by, praying that Edward would make it through customs or onward to his next flight quickly so that Jonathan would not have to see him again, and he didn't. And he lay awake at night wondering what would have happened if he had swallowed his fear for once in his life and asked to sit with Edward and his friend. If he had gotten up quickly enough to leave the plane with him. If he had so much as said hello to him as their paths crossed one last time.

But he hadn't done any of those things.

He had missed a lot of schoolwork during this time and that only made it all the more difficult. It was easier to sit at home than it was to get dressed and gather his things and make the trip to the university. But eventually he had to, and he did. And he did not hear a word of that day's lecture nor did he even remember how he'd gotten there.

When the class ended Jonathan put his headphones back on and shoved his unopened textbook back into his backpack, and he kept his eyes on his shoes. He should have stayed home.

This sentiment was echoed when he stumbled into someone, hard enough that his headphones were knocked onto the floor, and as he bent over and reached for them his fingers were met with some a redder brown than his own. His eyes jerked from this hand to the arm to the...

Edward smiled.

"It's an amazing world we live in, isn't it?" he said, leaning over to pick up Jonathan's headphones. He wasn't in the wheelchair but he did have a cane in one hand, covered over in metallic green paint. Edward handed him the headphones. "Hey, I like your bracelet."

Jonathan glanced down at his wrist and almost smiled. The pain of anxiety was folding up his stomach and making it difficult to think. "I like your cane," was, for some reason, what his mouth decided to say without asking his opinion. He pressed his tongue between his teeth and resolved to never, ever talk ever again.

But Edward just smiled again and reached into his back pocket. "It's not the worst. But now I can get that phone number I forgot to ask you for."

Jonathan attempted to take a breath and failed. Edward wanted his number?

Edward tapped away intently at the phone before handing it to Jonathan, who took it tremulously. God, his _name_ was right there. Edward really did -

No, he was just being nice. He'd delete it when he left.

Jonathan slowly typed out the number regardless and gave Edward the phone after, fingering the left cup on his headphones anxiously. Edward nodded down at the screen and shoved it back into his pocket. "I'll text you," he said. "We can get coffee sometime. But there's still the matter of right now."

Right... right now?

"Walk me to class," Edward told him, and because Jonathan was not sure what else to do, he followed. But he was going to have to say something before he imagined this to go any farther.

"What about your... your friend," he managed, unable to quite come out and say it. Edward looked at his phone again.

"Hm?"

"The person you were on the plane with."

"What about him?"

"Aren't you... together?"

Edward frowned. "Tulasiram? He's my roommate. We have the same major."

Relief flooded his stomach, so much so he felt a little sick. He swallowed hard and gripped the strap of his backpack harder. Edward was talking and talking but Jonathan's pulse was in his ears and he couldn't understand what he was saying. Edward had to tap him on the shoulder to get him to stop walking.

"We're here," Edward said, and his smile took away Jonathan's breath because he had just had the thought that it was _his_ now... but Edward didn't seem to have realised that Jonathan still wasn't sure what was happening or if it was real, and he somehow found the strength to touch Edward's elbow. He turned around to look behind him, and Jonathan's open mouth, for once, somehow found the words to say.

"Until we meet again?"

"I can't wait," Edward answered, and Jonathan smiled back at him.

 **Author's note**

 **Yes people really go to EDM festivals wearing nothing but glitter. Almost. You're allowed to wear as little clothes as you want but you do have to wear something over your crotch (I saw a guy completely naked except for a sling once) and the girls wear pasties (which fall off sometimes) or glitter over their nipples or see through clothes of every kind. And everyone is beautiful. A bodysuit is basically a swimsuit you can't wear in a pool because it's not chlorine-resistant (and most of them are see-through) and fluffies are like big fluffy leg warmers you tie above your knee and they go down to the bottom of your foot. They come in all kinds of colours and some of them glow in the UV lights or they have LEDs on them. I have some but my legs are too skinny to wear them lol. There's also rave bras, which is literally a bra that you cover up in glitter and sequins and whatever else you want (or buy it from someone who makes them professionally) and a lot of them are super nice.**

 **People smoke weed there. They do MDMA. They do coke off their car keys while they're in line. They do whatever they want and personnel is very sparse to say the least. They know they're not gonna catch everything coming in so they just ask you to be responsible about it (and they even have a bin you can dump your drugs in, no questions asked, in front of the entrances if you change your mind for whatever reason).**

 **My best friend's name is Tulasiram and while I did get him listening to Armin van Buuren for a while (I don't know if he still does, we haven't talked lately) he has never been to a festival. He came to Canada to get a major in some really boring stream of software engineering and all the time I knew him he used to live in a house with other Indians who came here to do that, even after they all had jobs and money to both send back home AND live by themselves.**


End file.
